


Through A Rusted Smile

by hesitateobscure



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cats, Child Abuse, F/M, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, billy and max are friends, billy hargrove has a crush on billy idol, billy idol - Freeform, billy is 18, billy is upsetti spaghetti and i dont blame him, farming, i actually have a plan omg, this is gonna be cute, who doesnt though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesitateobscure/pseuds/hesitateobscure
Summary: Things like that never really leave you, you know?—Or, Billy is 18, Max is in his custody, Susan’s dead, and Neil is in prison. So, Billy does what anyone would do. Moves him and Max to a little house on a small farm that Susan left them in her will.





	Through A Rusted Smile

**Author's Note:**

> cool so uh, this is my first chaptered fic and i am excited !! also side note, this fic is not canon complaint. at all. whatsoever. basically there are a few key points you gotta know:  
> -susan is dead  
> -neil is in jail  
> -max and billy are cool with each other  
> -billy has legal custody of max  
> -this is NOT set in hawkins (im imagining the parts of appalachian kentucky, but thats just cause i live near there)

The air was sticky and heavy, clinging to Billy’s skin, the bright morning light shining through the ancient trees. His bare feet dug into the moist soil, the sweet smell of fresh earth filling his nose. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

He lit a cigarette and surveyed the area. A small hill with a house on top, a creek running near, a plot for a vegetable garden, all guarded by legions of trees. 

He slowly made his way up the flower liner path, a skinny tabby cat following behind his heels. At the end, a happy, squat, white house greeted him. It had been Max’s great-Aunt Therese’s, and Susan had left it to her and Billy in her will. 

“Max! C’mon, let's check out the house before unpacking the car.”

A loud, indistinguishable reply was called out, and soon, Max’s bright red hair came into view. She let out a high pitched squeal at the sight of the cat, who was now settled on the porch. 

“Billy- Billy you’ve got to let me keep it! It’s adorable!”

Smiling, Billy reached and flipped the cat over. “He. You wanna name him? If it’s a good name, we can keep him.”

Max thought for a second, before shaking her head and pushing the door inside, cringing at the loud screech of the long-still hinges. The door slammed behind her; Billy flinched. 

—

The inside was good, wood floors throughout, chipped paint, two bedrooms, and semi-furnished. 

“Alright, your Uncle said he’d bring over our matresses and furniture in his truck, so we should get the rest set up. Decide which room is which, and I’ll start bringing shit in, okay?”

Max nodded in affirmation. 

Billy had only been able to get his Camaro into the main path, not too far from the house. He started with the heaviest he could do alone, boxes of books, vinyl, plates, and cans of food. He enlisted Max to help him with the rest. 

Billy was sore by the end, arms screaming from carrying the boxes (Max’d quit halfway through), but it was worth it. They had been able to put down a rug in the area Max had designated as the living room, and there was still a small dining table and three chairs left from the previous owner. 

He reached into a box and pulled out two beers and a Coke. As he walked back to wear Max was sitting, organizing the vinyl, she tried grabbing the second beer, resulting in Billy swatting away her hand and tossing her the coke. “When you’re sixteen, Max, I’ll let you drink. Until then, it’s Coke for you.”

The - still unnamed - cat had decided that he liked Billy and Max, so he climbed through the open window and curled up on Max’s lap, swatting at her hair. Billy smiled fondly, the scene reminding him of when he was 8 and his mother let him get a dog. Of course, Neil had made Billy shoot the dog when he came home from work, but it was nice for the day. He shook the thoughts out of his head, mentally repeating the words Max had told him so many times. _You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you._

“I’m gonna see if I can find some wood, and start a fire for dinner. Can you check that the chimney works?” Max nodded, and Billy headed out. 

Billy was in luck, there was still a large pile of firewood around back. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag, and started carrying it in. 

“So what I figure is: we’ll have a big pile of wood outside, and a small one in here, so we don’t have to go outside every time we want a fire.”

Max wasn’t listening, instead choosing to glare at Billy. “You really shouldn’t smoke as much as you do. It’s not healthy.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Max, I’ve told you a million times, I’m find. And you know how I get when I don’t smoke.” She huffed and turned back to the record player. 

“Didja bring Rebel Yell?”

“‘Course I did, it’s your favorite. It’s in the box with Def Leppard and Boston.”

Max smiled appreciatively, rummaging through the box until she found it. Billy’d never admit it, but Rebel Yell was one of his favorite albums too. And no, not just cause he wanted to fuck Billy Idol. Well, mostly because he wanted to fuck Billy Idol, but also because Flesh for Fantasy and Blue Highway were good songs. Although having the album cover being a shirtless Billy Idol didn’t hurt. 

—

Once Billy’d gotten a decent fire going, he emptied two cans of chicken noodle soup into a pot, and found a grate that could hold the pot over the fire. 

“Well, Maxine, seems we’ve got ourselves a pretty sweet gig for now.”

She rolled her eyes, petting the cat’s stomach. 

“I told you not to call me that. And I decided on a name. Whaddya think about Daisy? I think it’s pretty.”

Billy smirked, although he actually thought Daisy would be an alright name for a cat. 

“Hate to break it to you, Max, but we have a boy cat.”

She crossed her arms again, causing maybe-Daisy to squirm out of her grip and hop onto the table. 

“And? Daisy’s a pretty name, and he’s a pretty cat. It fits.”

Billy let out a laugh, a low, thundering laugh. “Okay, Max, our cat’s name is Daisy.”

—

“Shit, shit, shit, shit! Jesus, that pot is hot.”

Max tried - and failed to stop giggling. “I mean, Billy, it is made of metal, and was over an open flame. It’s gonna get hot.”

Billy sneered, but ruffled Max’s hair on his way to grab an extra shirt to take the pot off, so she knew he wasn’t actually mad. 

Once he’d gotten the pot off the fire, and he’d poured the soup into two bowls, he got himself his third beer, and went to sit down next to Max. 

“You only get food if you let me change the music. I mean, I don’t mind The Cars, but you’ve been playing them for hours Max. My ears are gonna bleed.”

Max snatched the soup from his hands, but took off the record. “Just no Metallica okay? We listened to them in the car.”

Billy nodded and put on Dr. Feelgood, knowing Max liked it. She gave him a toothy smile, swatting Daisy away from her bowl of soup. 

—

After the album had been played all the way through, Billy pulled out all the pillows and let Mac make herself a nest, before going outside to smoke. The air was cool and damp, and he almost felt bad for polluting the sweet-tasting breeze with his smoke. When he came back in, she was fast asleep, with Daisy sitting like a pincushion on her chest. 

He pulled of his jeans, leaving his shirt and underwear because his thirteen year old sister is next to him you creep. Sleep came fast and before he knew it, Billy had drifted off. 

—

_He was bringing the belt down fast and hard, across Billy’s chest, back, legs, everywhere._

_“Useless, pathetic faggot! You’re a worthless piece of shit. You can’t do anything right, can you? Answer me Billy. Can you? Or are you too stupid to figure it out?”_

_Neil was kicking him, with his steel toed boots. Below him was the familiar linoleum floor of his kitchen._

_“No- Dad, please. Stop, please!”_

_“I’m not your father! No son of mine is a faggot.”_

_“Sir, please. Please stop, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

“Billy! Wake up! Billy you’re safe. He’s not going to hurt you. You’re having a nightmare. It’s fine.”

Billy’s eyes shot open, breathing heavily. Max’s concerned face was floating above him. With shaky hands, he reached to his collarbones and grasped the warm metal chain that had been pooling there, fingers running along until he found the pendant. 

“Sorry, Max.”

Disapprovingly, Max shook her head. 

“Billy, you don’t have to apologize for that. Plus, it’s light out anyways, so you should start on breakfast.”


End file.
